Nerve Endings 1a, still video capture, 2012
There is a place I like to sit in the evenings. In my yard it is as still as a whisper, with the fated ash, oak and maple leaves making no movement. One can almost hear the small animals breathing a few feet away.
I heard a conversation far down our block once, in that almost surreal stillness. I'd thought the sounds were merely next door, but then the same voices were moving up the street, hugging the sidewalk, ever closer-a father and son.
“Dad, did you ever talk about things you didn’t know anything about?”
“All the time…but if you don’t really know, then you are guessing about things, like stories.”
“Can people mix up true stuff and …well…stuff that ain’t true? I mean, like the stuff you have to tell to Dewey to make him stop crying?
“You’re little brother is a baby…its OK to make up things to tell him, but it isn’t good to do that with grownups, unless you make sure they understand the difference between true things and fiction.”
“Stuff that isn’t true.”
“Am I fiction?”
“You are the opposite.”
“It means you are the truest thing I know dear little man…”
As the couple moved down the street the conversation continued. The words persisted in tracing thoughts just out of reach… but it was really OK. I found that the parts of the conversation I heard were genial, and with some reflection, wholly illuminating.
One of the more important things we can cultivate in our lives is the ability to grasp the information that destiny hands us. It takes a bit of determination to slow the mind down enough to see signs in the everyday; distractions ply the senses at all moments.
Good poetry has the ability to thwart mundane distractions in some instances, but when good poetry and distractions merge, sometimes there is a sweeter irony with glimpses of new, bright creations.
The writer Greg Correll is a brilliant nerve ending of a man residing alongside a peripheral distraction. Art persists in cooperation, and sometimes in spite of the niggling inconvenience of Parkinson’s.
With the news came his magnificent edict, and out of the ensuing months came a creative surge, total, and profound.
Gary Justis, Nerve Endings 1a, 2012, macro video
I hope many will visit Greg Correll’s links and take time to let the words undo your sense of time. His words are graceful and whole, mitigating the firmer realms of our budding thoughts.
all content copyright © 2012 by Gary Justis
special thanks to Nikki Stern and all our colleagues at Salon and Open Salon